


If We Could Sit Together A Moment

by afterglowlita



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterglowlita/pseuds/afterglowlita
Summary: George Weasley was never one to be open about his affections, especially when those affections involved Oliver Wood's younger sister...





	If We Could Sit Together A Moment

**Author's Note:**

> The year is 2017 and I've gone into a Harry Potter renaissance. 
> 
> This is purely a gratuitous "I love George Weasley so much" fic, partially written in my car on my lunch breaks during work. I also haven't written anything in a hot minute, so I'm a little rusty.
> 
> I hope all of my fellow George Weasley lovers enjoy this! 
> 
> Disclaimer(s): I do not own any of the characters mentioned, nor the lyrics used in the title. Title is courtesy of Owl City's "I'll Meet You There." 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are always appreciated!

George Weasley was never one to be open about his affections. In fact, it was an unspoken agreement between the Weasley children to _never_ bring up things like that with each other. This agreement was why Percy never mentioned Penelope Clearwater at the family table during meals. It was why Ginny wouldn’t speak to the twins for a month after they’d let it slip that she’d fancied Harry during his first visit to the Burrow. Avoiding the topic of crushes and romantic pursuits was merely self-preservation. 

With these unspoken rules set in place, it was a wonder to George how he’d ended up as the target for romantic interrogation. 

“Just admit it!” Fred laughed, elbowing George’s ribs. 

They sat at the Gryffindor table in the midst of supper. The Great Hall was loud with chatter and the clattering of forks against plates. Most of the Gryffindors spoke excitedly about the upcoming Quidditch match between their house and Slytherin house, while others bemoaned classes, homework, and exams. George silently wished he could have been a part of any other conversation than the one he was currently having. 

“You fancy Alicia, and you know it,” said Fred, whipping his head around quickly to make sure that Alicia Spinnet had not, in fact, heard what he’d just announced. 

George, red-faced and annoyed, shook his head. “I don’t fancy her. Besides, who are _you_ to talk about fancying anyone when you make little heart eyes at Angelina every chance you get?” 

Fred grimaced, a blush spreading across his face. He turned to look down the table once more, making sure that Angelina had _definitely_ not heard any part of their discussion. Alicia and Angelina paid them no attention as they flipped through the latest issue of _Quidditch Quarterly_. 

“Aw, Freddie, I think everyone at the table already knows about that. You’re not very good at hiding it, mate,” Lee said with a grin. “Besides, it’s not Alicia that George fancies. He’s got his eyes on that Ravenclaw girl.” 

Lee narrowly dodged the chicken bone that George flung at his face.

“Ravenclaw girl?” Ron echoed, looking up from the plate he’d been piling with food. “Which Ravenclaw girl?” 

Fred leaned in towards his brother with a quirked eyebrow and devious smile. “Yes, George. _Do_ tell us about this Ravenclaw girl.” 

“Merlin, what is this sudden interest in my love life?” George huffed.

“Oh, so you _love_ her, do you?” Lee chirped. 

George launched a second chicken bone. Lee did not manage to dodge it in time. 

“I don’t _love_ her,” George said. “I’ve barely spoken with her since last term. And I only ever talked with her because she let me study her Potions notes before exams. Merlin’s beard, none of you were this hard on Percy when we found out about Penelope Clearwater!” 

“So defensive, Georgie,” Ginny said, grinning at her brother across the table. “We’re just curious, is all. If my brother is in love, I need to make sure this girl is fit to date him.” 

“I’m not in love!” George repeated with a flail of his hands. “And it’s not as if she’s interested in me, anyway.” 

“So, who is it?” Ron asked. 

George met the expectant faces of his friends and family and grimaced. 

“Florence Wood,” he muttered, covering his face with his hands. 

Ginny balked at the admission. “ _Florence Wood?_ Oliver’s younger sister?” 

George nodded, unable to meet her gaze. He kept his hands firmly over his eyes. Maybe if he ignored them, they would all go away and leave him alone over this stupid crush. He peeked through his fingers, but no such luck. They were all still there, still staring at him like he was absolutely mad. 

Finally, after several moments of silence, Hermione said, “I think Florence Wood is a lovely girl.”

George cast Hermione a grateful smile, which she returned before turning her attention back to the library book perched in her lap. 

“Does Oliver know you fancy his little sister?” Fred asked. 

George shook his head. How could he have ever admitted to his Quidditch captain--one of his _best mates_ \--that he fancied Florence? It’s not as if George hadn’t thought about admitting it before. He’d feel odd if one of _his_ friends had feelings for Ginny and didn’t tell _him_ about it. But the more George thought about it, the worse of an idea it became. If Oliver was anything like George (or any of the Weasley brothers, for that matter), then he’d be protective of his little sister. George didn’t feel that risking their friendship was worth pursuing Oliver’s sister. 

But now, Oliver was no longer at Hogwarts--a Keeper for Puddlemere United’s Quidditch team, the last George had heard--and George was free to pursue Florence without fear of ostracizing her older brother. The only thing that stood in his way now was his fear that she might reject him. 

George glanced back towards the Ravenclaw table, his eyes moving over each individual student until he spotted her. She was quietly chatting with Luna Lovegood; both girls were reading over a copy of _The Quibbler_ that was laid flat on the table in front of them. He watched as Florence nibbled pensively on a pumpkin pasty. George felt his face grow warm as he watched her, and he forced himself to look away. 

“You’ve got it bad, mate,” Lee said, clapping a sympathetic hand on George’s shoulder. 

“I know,” George moaned, before covering his face with his hands once more. 

\--

Transfiguration was, admittedly, one of George’s favorite classes. He enjoyed the work they did in the class, he loved Professor McGonagall (though he doubted that love was reciprocated, the way she frowned at the twins over her glasses whenever they caused a stir during her lessons), and all of his best mates were in the class with him. 

The best part (or worst, depending on the day), however, was the fact that Florence Wood sat right in front of George during lessons. Much of his time in Transfiguration was spent daydreaming, staring at the back of her head while McGonagall lectured. Today was no different. 

“Now,” Professor McGonagall’s voice pierced through George’s daydream, startling him back to reality. “I’d like all of you to choose your partners for this task-- _except_ for you, Fred and George Weasley. You two are banned from working together any longer, lest we have a repeat of last week’s _incident_.” 

Fred rolled his eyes. “Honestly, she swears like we _meant_ to turn Alicia’s nose into broccoli.” 

They had meant to, actually, spurred on by Alicia’s insistence that it would be hilarious. Which it was, until McGonagall found out what they had done and yelled at them about the potential dangers of transfigurations when done improperly. 

Both twins frowned exaggeratedly at Professor McGonagall. She pointedly stared back, lips tight and one eyebrow raised. It seemed her mind was made up. Truthfully, neither Fred, nor George, could really blame her. There were only so many mishaps one professor could take, and McGonagall seemed to have the highest tolerance of the twins’ mischievous nature than any other professor at Hogwarts. (At least, she had given them the least amount of detentions of any professor they’d ever had).

“Oi! Fred!” Angelina called across the room. “Do you want to work with me?” 

Fred gathered his things and sped off to Angelina’s table in greater haste than George had ever seen, leaving George to look around the room helplessly as all of his other friends partnered up for the lesson. 

Florence turned in her seat and noticed George sitting alone and looking helpless. 

“George?” she said with a smile. 

“Yes?” he asked, his heart leaping at the sound of her saying his name. 

“Would you like to work together?” 

George felt like a fish out of water, the way his mouth opened and closed as he tried to formulate a response that wouldn’t sound as giddy as he felt. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. I’d love to.” 

She smiled at him, and he pointedly ignored his pulse pounding loudly in his ears. 

She gathered her belongings and moved back to his table. George flexed his fingers, staring down at his lap as she settled next to him. Florence smelled fresh and floral, like bergamot mixed with blossoms. The scent was incredibly appealing to George, and he felt it suited her, almost like a signature. Soft, sweet, and feminine. 

“Now, what are we doing?” George asked her, wiping his sweaty palms against the legs of his trousers. 

This earned a giggle from Florence, and his heart leapt in his chest. 

“We’re supposed to turn these music boxes into clocks,” she answered. She laid out her notes in front of him, and George grinned at the doodles at the top of her parchment. They were little things, just flowers and trees drawn along the top of the page, but they made George smile. Even the most studious Ravenclaw girl found her mind wandering in the middle of lessons. 

By the end of the hour, Florence and George had successfully transfigured their music box into a clock that played bits of the original music at the top of the hour. Professor McGonagall was delighted by their work, showing off the clock to the other students while Florence and George smiled sheepishly at her praise. 

“It’s amazing what one can accomplish when they put in the effort,” McGonagall said, eyeing George as she set their clock back onto the table. 

George shrugged. “Florence was the one who managed to transfigure it into a clock, Professor, not me.” 

“Yes,” Florence said. “But you were the one who figured out how to make it play music at its chime.” 

She teasingly poked his side, and George flushed. He glanced over at his brother’s table and met Fred and Angelina’s knowing grins. He quickly averted his gaze back towards the table and smiled to himself until McGonagall dismissed the class.

\--

They fell into a rhythm after that, working together during every Transfiguration lesson while Fred worked with Angelina. Professor McGonagall seemed surprised by this development, but said nothing. She was simply glad that the Weasley twins were being productive during her lessons, rather than disruptive.

As Florence and George worked together, his feelings for her blossomed. Florence was funny, smart, and appreciated George for his wit and talents. She encouraged him without condescending to him--something that George rarely got from his own family, and sometimes even his friends. 

He told her all about Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, about all of the products he and Fred had been working on for the past few years, and he was surprised by her delight at the whole concept. 

“I’m glad that you’re pursuing something that will make you happy,” she said, flashing a brief smile towards him before turning her attention back to the mouse in front of them. (McGonagall wanted them to turn it into a lamp, but their lamp still had a tail, and they’d spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out how to transfigure the blasted thing completely). 

“I...thank you,” George said. What else could he say? He and Fred had so often been told that their plans to open a joke shop were childish, fruitless, and a waste of their potential. Their own mother had never encouraged them to pursue their dream. Florence’s unabashed support made George feel even more excited--more _inspired_ \--than he ever had before. 

He’d learned so much about her over the last month. They talked about all sorts of things during their lessons, and George found that she was one of the easiest people to have a conversation with. He’d learned all about her favorite music and books, and he smiled as she talked excitedly about a Muggle band that she’d seen perform over summer break. 

And, as it turns out, Florence was just as fanatical about Quidditch as Oliver, though she’d never tried out for the Quidditch team, insisting that she was, “rubbish at the sport, anyway.” 

“I’ve always rooted for Ireland,” she explained. “But Oliver insists it’s because I fancy their Seeker, Aidan Lynch.” 

“And do you?” he asked. 

Florence raised an eyebrow. “Do I what?” 

“Fancy their Seeker?” 

Florence laughed, a blush spreading across her face as she looked bashfully down at her notes. George smiled. He didn’t know much about Aidan Lynch other than that he was tall, thin, and red-haired. George tried not to read too much into that. 

After their lesson, George and Florence walked side-by-side down the hall, making their way to their respective dormitories before lunch hour. 

“We should study for tomorrow’s Potions exam,” Florence chirped, walking quickly beside him to keep up with his long strides. George made a concerted effort to slow down, to keep pace with her, if only to keep their interaction going just a little while longer. 

“You truly are a Ravenclaw, all studious and determined,” George teased. 

“Don’t forget my fantastic wit and sparkling personality,” she grinned. 

George laughed now, shaking his head. “A little studying never hurt, I suppose. So, I guess I’ll be seeing you in the library later on?” 

Florence shook her head. “I was actually thinking we should study in the astronomy tower tonight.” 

George stopped cold. Startled by George’s reaction, Florence stopped and wheeled around to look at him. 

The astronomy tower? Did she not know the reputation the astronomy tower held? Surely, she must have. The astronomy tower was the spot of choice for late-night lovers to meet. Its particular use as a rendezvous spot had long been kept secret from Hogwarts faculty and was still used by students. Was she suggesting…? 

“The astronomy tower?” George asked, wincing at the crack in his voice. “Are you sure that’s where you want to meet?” 

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It’s quiet, secluded--absolutely perfect for studying.” 

_Amongst other things_ , George thought. He quickly pushed that notion from his mind, lest his imagination start to wander. 

“Okay,” he nodded. “The astronomy tower, then.” 

“Great! I’ll meet you there after supper.” 

“Yeah,” George answered, swallowing thickly. “After supper.” 

\--

George spent the better part of supper picking at his meal, nerves gnawing at his stomach. He hadn’t told anyone about his study date with Florence, deciding that it wasn’t worth his friends’ teasing. He was anxious enough as it was. 

However, Fred knew George better than anyone else, and sensed his twins’ odd mood from the moment they sat down. 

“What’s going on with you, hm?” Fred asked casually, watching as George dissected his mince pie with his fork. 

“What?” George asked, blinking up at him. 

“You’re all… _twitchy_ and nervous.”

George blinked at Fred, unsure of how to answer. He didn’t want to lie to Fred, but he certainly didn’t want to tell him the truth, either. And what could he say, exactly? That he was sneaking off--after hours, no less--to meet the girl he was absolutely mad about in the astronomy tower for a bit of late night studying? George wasn’t even sure of the implications Florence’s invitation held. He didn’t want anybody else making assumptions for him. 

Finally, he decided on the vaguest answer he could muster.

“It’s nothing.” 

Fred didn’t look convinced, but George’s expression made him leave the conversation at that. 

\--

After supper, George waited behind at the Gryffindor table as students filed out of the Great Hall. He looked towards the Ravenclaw table and caught Florence’s eye. She remained seated as well, bidding her goodbyes to Luna as Luna readied herself to head back to Ravenclaw Tower. It may have been his imagination, but George swore Luna looked over at him with a curious smile as she passed. 

They met in the entrance hall. Florence’s bookbag was strapped firmly across her chest, and she tugged at it as George approached. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, smiling at him easily. 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” George nodded, the knots in his stomach tightening further. “Lead the way.” 

Florence had clearly been to the astronomy tower several times before. Even though he had the Marauder’s Map memorized almost down to the last detail, George still would have had trouble finding his way to the astronomy tower alone. But Florence led him through Hogwarts castle confidently, turning left and right down several hallways before approaching a large, wooden door with a crescent moon-shaped knob that led to a stairwell. 

They climbed the spiraling steps. Each landing had a window that looked out upon the grounds, and George marvelled at the clear night sky, how the light reflected on dark lake in the distance. 

When they finally reached the top of the tower, Florence set her bookbag down and seated herself by the large, open window. She looked at George and beckoned him to sit with her. The stars shone brightly in the night sky overhead; the full moon seemed almost close enough to touch. From this height, George could see the expansiveness of the school’s landscape. He looked out upon the Quidditch field, the Forbidden Forest, and Hagrid’s warmly lit hut just at the edge of it all. It was no wonder why Florence would prefer a place like this to study, rather than the stuffy, old library. 

“Blimey,” George said breathlessly. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

With a flick of her wand, Florence lit the candles that were scattered about the room. Suddenly, they were bathed in the warm, sleepy glow of the flames. 

“I’ve always loved coming up here,” she continued as she pulled her books and parchment from her bag. “It’s so peaceful, and there’s no Madam Pince to bother us while we work.” 

“Have you ever brought anyone else up here?” George asked, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

Florence glanced up at him and shook her head. “No, you’re the first. I figured--well, I don’t know. I thought you might appreciate it like I do.” 

George nodded, his chest swelling at the thought. “I do appreciate it. Very much, actually.” 

Florence smiled and shrugged bashfully. “I know this place has a, er, _reputation_ , but…” 

So, she _had_ known about the astronomy tower’s history. The admission made George’s stomach flutter, and suddenly he was nervous all over again. 

She continued, “I didn’t invite you here because--I hope you don’t think-- _gah_.” 

Florence Wood was extremely cute when she was flustered, George decided. 

“No, I understand,” he said with a smile. “This is a strictly professional meeting between two strictly professional students.” 

Florence laughed now, seemingly eased by George’s joke. As much as he hated to admit it, he was slightly disappointed that there was nothing more to this than just studying. Deep down, he’d hoped that maybe there was some chance that Florence might feel something for him, that maybe she would admit it here in the tower, and that he might get to kiss her the way he’d fantasized about so many times before. It was a stupid hope, he supposed. But he still appreciated her company and her willingness to share this place with him that was clearly so special to her. 

Florence cleared her throat and looked up at George from beneath her fringe. “Maybe we should, ah, get started. I’m still not sure what all goes into a Draught of Peace.” 

\--

They studied well into the night, speaking softly as they quizzed each other over the ingredients and steps to create the potions that they would be tested on the next day. George was amazed by how much Florence knew, and equally amazed at how much he could remember, given that he rarely paid attention in Snape’s class. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Florence closed her book and looked at George with a tired smile. 

“I think that’s enough for one night,” she said in a warm murmur. 

George nodded. There was no clock in the room, but he knew it was late--far too late for any student to be out of bed. He figured it’d be a chore to dodge Filch and Peeves on their way back, but he wasn’t concerned. 

They gathered their things, then, and George moved slowly, wanting to savor every last bit of his time with her before they bid their farewells for the night. He watched her from the corner of his eye, admiring the way she tucked her long, dark hair back behind her ear, and the way she held her the tip of her quill between her teeth as she shoved her belongings back into her bag. They were simple things, but he appreciated them, just as he appreciated everything else about her. 

A flick of Florence’s wand plunged the room back into darkness. George could make out the tendrils of smoke coming from the candle wicks in the moonlight, and the smell made him feel calm and warm. And then, suddenly, he was overcome with a feeling of grief. As the candles were snuffed out, he realized that this marked the end of their night together. And while it would certainly not be the last time they spoke, George was afraid that it may be the last time they’d ever be alone in comfortable, intimate silence. It was a silly fear, but a very real one to George. 

“Florence,” he said suddenly. “Before we go, I...have something I need to tell you.”

“What is it, George?” He could hear the worry in her tone. 

“It’s nothing bad. Well, I suppose that depends on your perspective, actually. But...I’m scared that if I don’t tell you now, I’ll regret it.” 

“Okay?” she responded, not sounding entirely convinced. 

George took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach churned and his face burned. “I’ve, er...I’ve fancied you for quite some time. Since fourth year, actually,” he said. It was easier this way, admitting his feelings under the cover of night, when he couldn’t see anything but her shadowy outline against the moonlight. 

His words were met with silence. George held his breath, waiting for her to say something, say _anything_. He mentally braced himself for the impact of her impending rejection. It was a terrible idea, he decided, admitting his feelings for her. What would she think of him now? Would she even want to speak to him again? The thought of losing her friendship hurt more than the thought of her simply not reciprocating his affections. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Florence spoke. “I remember during fourth year, I would go to every Quidditch match that Gryffindor played.” 

George raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

She continued, “Everyone thought I was there to cheer for my brother, and I was, mostly. But, I always liked watching you and Fred, too. Some of the best Beaters in Hogwarts history, I thought. I could never tell you two apart in your uniforms until you all got numbers sewn onto them. Fred was number twelve, and you were number sixteen. 

“I remember during a match, a Bludger came close to cracking me in the head. Some Slytherin prat knocked it my way, but you swooped in and saved me at the last second, and you hit that bludger right back at that Slytherin boy, and knocked him clean off of his broom. After that, I’d always kept an eye out for number sixteen on the Quidditch field.” 

Florence laughed to herself, as if the whole thing was completely silly to her. 

“I built it up in my mind. You were my knight in shining Quidditch robes, swooping in and saving me from near death by Bludger. I was positively smitten, but I never thought...it never occurred to me that you might feel the same way.”

She stepped closer to him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see her face, could make out the smattering of freckles across her nose, and the brightness of her eyes. 

George let out a shuddering laugh. “Oliver will kill me.” 

“I doubt it,” Florence shrugged. “He knows how I feel about you. Always teased me about it. Said I should have asked you to the Yule Ball when I had the chance.” 

“But you didn’t,” George said. 

“I didn’t,” Florence said. “I didn’t because I thought you fancied Alicia Spinnet.” 

George _had_ fancied Alicia Spinnet, but only during first year. She was strong, smart, and bloody gorgeous. But those feelings faded once George had gotten to know her, and Alicia became nothing more than a good friend. It also happened that Alicia Spinnet fancied Katie Bell, and George knew he didn’t stand a chance. 

He laughed again, laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Florence licked her lips, attempting to tamp down the grin that spread across her face. 

“Yes,” she nodded. 

They moved in close, bumping noses, both grinning like fools. George cupped her face, and Florence’s eyes fluttered close. He took a moment to admire her, the fullness of her lower lip, the way her dark eyelashes contrasted her pale skin. He couldn’t even begin to understand how he’d gotten so lucky. 

Kissing her was like everything he’d ever imagined. It was slow, sweet, and unhurried, punctuated by a small gasp from Florence. One kiss, turned into two, and then three, and then Florence had her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, keeping him close as she pressed a small kiss to his cheek. George felt he could stay here in this moment forever. 

The knots in his stomach loosened, replaced by butterflies and a feeling of giddiness deep in his chest. When he pulled away, Florence gripped the front of his robes and pulled him back, kissing him almost impatiently, as if she’d been waiting for this moment for an eternity and wasn’t about to let him go so easily. 

There were footsteps and a small gasp, and George and Florence jumped apart, startled by the sudden noise. George could make out two figures in the darkness as they retreated quickly down the stone steps. Other students, he figured, wanting to utilize the privacy astronomy tower themselves. The echoes of their footsteps eventually disappeared, and he looked back at Florence with a wry grin. 

“I guess we aren’t the only ones wanting some privacy, hm?” 

They made their way down the steps, deciding that it was definitely time to head back to their dormitories. On their way down, Florence shyly reached for George’s hand and laced their fingers together. 

\--

It was finally the day of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch match. The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as students filed in for breakfast. George, along with the rest of the Quidditch team, ate quickly, wanting to get down to the Quidditch field early so they could change into their uniforms and get their usual pre-match pep talks in. 

George looked over his shoulder towards the Ravenclaw table. He caught Florence’s eye and winked at her. Florence flushed and smiled, giving a little wave. 

It’d been a week since their study date, since George told her all of the things he’d been wanting to admit since fourth year. Since then, he had taken to pulling Florence aside between classes, kissing her chastely before moving on to the next lesson, and holding her hand as they walked together in the castle. 

Everyone had noticed of course, but George was more than happy to deal with a bit of teasing over the whole thing if it meant he could kiss Florence openly and unabashedly. 

“All right, Gryffindors!” Harry called with a grin. “Let’s head out!” 

The team cheered as they rose from the table. Some of the Gryffindor students around them cheered as well, shouting well wishes and voicing their excitement for the match. 

They made their way out of the Great Hall, into the entrance hall, and out onto the grounds. The morning air was crisp, and the grass glistened with morning dew that had not yet evaporated. George and Lee followed the team, chatting excitedly when George heard a shout from behind him. 

“George!” 

He turned and spotted Florence jogging towards him from the main entrance. The rest of the Gryffindor team continued on to the Quidditch field, but George could almost _feel_ their smirks as they glanced back towards where he and Florence stood. 

“Hi,” George greeted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Hi,” Florence said breathlessly. “I was hoping to catch you before the match so I could wish you good luck.” 

She leaned up on her toes and quickly kissed the corner of his mouth. George felt the tips of his ears burn, and he was unable to contain the grin that spread across his face. Before she could turn to leave, George leaned down and kissed her again, his palm resting gently against her cheek. Florence squeaked, soft and high, and George huffed a laugh against her cheek. 

“Thank you, love,” he murmured. “I’ll do my best to keep you safe from Bludgers.” 

Florence pulled away from him and said with a grin, “I’ll be cheering for you.”


End file.
